


Blood in the Water

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, And angst, Biting, F/M, Hate Sex, Lauriver being super rough with each other, Rough Sex, Scratching, Takes place some point after s05e10, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, smut with a side of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Oliver receives a message from Black Siren that leads to a proposition he could have never anticipated.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Blood in the Water

Oliver wasn’t sure what brought him to the abandoned apartment complex in the Glades that night. Well, he did know, it was a text message with a location from a burner cell. Still, he could’ve ignored the request, he could’ve sent the message onwards to Felicity and prepared the team for an ambush, he could’ve done a million other things...yet here he was standing in front of the apartment number listed in the message.

His hand rested on the doorknob as he stared at the flaking paint and faded wood beneath it. He reached up with a free hand to loosen the knot of his tie, he hadn’t even stopped home to change, he came straight here from City Hall.

A voice in his head told Oliver this could be a trap, some well laid bait that he was undoubtedly falling for because  _ she _ was the one who was asking. It could be a trap, he agreed with the voice in his head, but it could also not be…

The last time she had asked to meet him things hadn’t gone well, but in all fairness that hadn’t really been his fault or hers. Oliver told himself that was why he came here alone and unarmed, as proof of some notion that he couldn’t put his finger on.

He was nervous, he wasn’t really sure what he was nervous about, but there was this dizzying feeling swelling in his chest the longer he waited. Finally summoning some semblance of courage Oliver twisted the doorknob to the apartment door, the door opened with the disquieting sound of the door sticking in the doorway. Still the door swung open and Oliver took a step inside the rundown little apartment. The wood flooring that wasn’t chewed up with decay was splintering and covered in a thick layer of dust and Lord knows what else.

The floor creaked beneath his steps as he walked deeper and deeper into the space. He kicked up dust and miniscule shards of glass crunched beneath his feet as he went. He paused, standing firmly in the center of what could’ve been a living room. That dizzying nervousness had yet to disappear just as  _ she _ had yet to appear. Oliver glanced back over his shoulder at the half-open door, turning back only when he heard the floorboards give a groan that only another body could produce. It was poorly lit in the apartment with no electricity still running through the place, the only light that came through was the very distant glow of streetlights from across the road.

Oliver’s eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly and he wasn’t sure what to feel when his gaze finally landed on her, a part of him was relieved, another part was overcome with a bitter sorrow. She wasn’t Laurel, Oliver reminded himself, not  _ his  _ Laurel anyway.

Yet there she stood and regardless of what he told himself the very repressed part of him that he allowed to feel desire was snarling savagely like a starved animal at the sight of her...and he hated it.

There she stood, dressed in all black with shadows sticking to her like a layer of skin. The floorboards gave another groan when she shifted her weight from one foot to another and Oliver loathed the way his eyes were glued to the subtle shift of her hips.

“I have to say I’m surprised you showed up...no hood...no bow...no merry band of idiots.” She drawled in that low seductive voice, that very wrong voice.

Oliver cleared his throat before speaking, inhaling through his nose, the bland taste of dust followed and faintly beneath that was the smell of her; she smelled like leather and something spiced and androgynous and heady.

“What do you want?” Oliver asked firmly, harshly even, he didn’t like the way his own voice sounded to his ears.

A chill ran through him, tearing down his spine as he detected the wide smile he earned from her in return. That smile was  _ everything _ , that smile was Laurel...that smile was everything youthful and hungry about Laurel Lance; it was everything that no longer existed and he hated her for reminding him of it. The chill spiraled through him, warming as it carved a path beneath his skin, settling in his stomach in a flare of heat and want.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Oliver ducked his head a little at the question, he couldn’t imagine  _ not _ liking Laurel - any version of Laurel. That was the problem though, wasn’t it?

“What does that have to do with me being here?” Oliver said back without thinking, again with that unwelcoming cold tone.

She gave a shrug and the loose halo of blonde curls bounced with the motion.

“Just an observation.” She murmured as she took a step closer. Faint light spilling in from a broken window gave her a gentle glow as she neared him, she looked like an angel...Oliver thought, like something out of a fairytale in a dream, yet this was reality and it was a nightmare.

“That’s alright, don’t worry I’m really not losing sleep over your opinion of me.” She tacked on as she stepped closer, Oliver felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed while he watched her. Something about the way she drew in closer and closer made his palms become clammy with sweat and his mouth dry. He licked his lips and he felt her gaze shift down to observe the motion of his tongue.

“In your message, you said you have information on Prometheus.” Oliver said after a moment, speaking around her felt like running through wet cement, it was a constant struggle. There was this tug of war between his head and heart, logic trying to supersede desire and only being victorious through sheer force of will. Oliver had a dreading feeling that it would only be a matter of time until his willpower wasn’t enough to tamp down that overwhelming desire.

“I do.” She said lazily, sounding uninterested at the mention of the hooded terror that had been making both of their lives a living hell.

“So, then give it to me.” The force behind his words coupled with the poor phrasing seemed to wrench a choked breath from the pair of them.

“Slow down, cowboy.” She shot back a little breathlessly, and Oliver felt a great swell of discomfort at how his body seemed to react to her.

“I’ll give you what you want, but first I want something from you.” She explained, only now that she had eliminated most of the distance between them did Oliver notice the lack of her signature black lipstick, he was embarrassingly hypnotized by those soft pink lips.

Oliver found himself rolling his eyes in response, of course she wanted something, he was quickly learning through his time as the Mayor of Star City that everyone wanted something. He fixed her with an expectant look as he awaited her demands.

“First things first, don’t get things twisted: I don’t like you, at all.” She said, and Oliver tried to ignore the little itch of annoyance that followed her words. It was stupid, if she didn’t care what he thought of her, why should he return the favor?

“I’m losing my patience.” Oliver said in a growl, more disturbed that his words elicited another wide grin from her.

“Good, so I’ll cut to the chase,” Laurel’s doppelganger said as she erased what little space existed between them, her fingers curling around the fabric of his tie, “I want you to fuck me.” Her words left Oliver breathless and he found himself nodding in response - it made sense, right? Of course it made sense, he made it make sense only for the sake of being able to do it.

“That’s it?” He spat back and she chuckled a low icy sound in response, the grip on his tie became tight and she tugged on the fabric like a leash pulling his neck lower so his forehead nearly touched hers.

“I want you to fuck me...like you  **hate** me.”

Oliver felt something ugly and wicked lurch in him at the request, he could certainly manage that, he thought. His eyes met hers and there was something unfathomably desperate in her gaze as she stared at him.

“I  _ do _ hate you.” Words were spilling from his lips and he would’ve felt regret though she didn’t shrink from his cruel words, she seemed to embrace the emission from him. He hated her for being her...it was wrong and so fucked up, but it was the only rationalization he could give to the feeling she stirred in him. It had to be hate, because he couldn’t let it be anything else.

“Good,” She said as her free hand came up to squeeze at his jaw, her nails digging into his skin, “Show me.” Her voice dripped with a venomous heat as they stood there in the abandoned apartment, wind whistling where it rushed through the gaps in the floorboards and shattered windows.

There was sweat prickling at his brow at the suspense that hung in the stale, dust filled air. Each exhale was ragged and shallow, neither one daring to deviate from the frigid lock of eye contact. She pulled him down the rest of the way using his tie as leverage to do so. She pounced on him, angry and wanting, pulling impatiently at his clothes as Oliver found her mouth in a scathing kiss.

Their teeth knocked together as his tongue forced its way between her lips only to be rewarded with the stinging nip of her teeth. Oliver hissed against her mouth as Laurel’s doppelganger tore at his clothes, raking her nails over every inch of available skin. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling harshly at the roots earning a ragged whine from his partner.

Disrobing was clumsy and rushed but was still a dance they both knew the steps to. They collided again in something that more closely resembled two warriors clashing than two people in a lovers embrace. Oliver pulled her close with a hand around her throat, his hungry mouth demanding more of her own. Her lips met his in their ugly kiss, she bit his lower lip hard - too hard for him to forget who he was with, she was Laurel, not  _ his _ Laurel. He wrenched her head back out of the kiss with a hand in her hair, she gave a sharp gasp.

Oliver gave a long look at her as rivulets of blood dripped from his injured lip, her long blonde hair was a mess, spit glistened on her lips and his blood was smeared on her chin. She looked utterly debauched, pupils gone wide like that of a shark who had smelled the blood in the water…

Laurel pounced on him yet again, hungry and desperate, sucking his bloody lip between her teeth to taste the coppery tange flowing from the wound she’d inflicted.

Oliver kept his hand locked around her throat, using his grip to steer her to his liking. He ended up backing them up against a wall, a demanding hand pushed between her legs seeking more. He tugged at the cotton underwear in his path until the elastic bit into her skin, the fabric finally tore with  _ snap _ only to be discarded without so much as a second glance.

He pushed a hand to cover her mouth, cursing when she bit the offending appendage, his blood sparking on her white teeth. Her head knocked back against the wall and when he didn’t move fast enough an impatient hand gripped his wrist guiding his digits to her hot core.

Laurel was ridiculously wet, her hips twitching and her mouth falling open with a shout as he plunged three fingers into her without warning. She gave a groan as he rocked his digits up into her roughly.

Her arms winding around him in what could be misconstrued to be a welcoming hug, though Oliver gave a hungry growl when he felt her nails rake angry red scratches across his back.

His fingers pushed up into her hard and fast and Laurel bucked against him like some wild horse trying to shake an unwelcome rider. Her hands scrabbled for purchase where they rested on his broad shoulders, nails digging into the muscle.

Oliver grunted as he sought out her mouth once more, her head shot forward, her forehead colliding with his in her eagerness.

“Fuck.” Oliver snarled as he shook off the surprise of the blow, pinning her to the wall with his forearm to her throat, he held her still as he took another hungry kiss. Laurel’s hips insistently ground against the thrusts of his fingers. Sweat sparkled on her skin as his fingers pushed into her, each intrusion followed by the lewd squelching of her sopping sex.

Laurel squirmed against the wall, eyes screwing shut as Oliver felt her walls tighten around his fingers. Her whole body quaked, hips undulating as she keened a painfully beautiful sound.

Withdrawing his digits, Oliver wiped the excess moisture gathered on his fingers across her collarbone and down her chest as he groped one of her breasts. Each push of his palm against her flesh smeared the scent into her skin. Her impatient, shaking hands pulled at his boxers, gripping his painfully erect cock in a maddeningly tight grip.

Laurel gave a hiss as Oliver dragged his blunt nails across her hip in the process of slinging one of her legs across his lower back. She had barely come down from her first orgasm before demanding his cock inside her with a harsh bite to his neck. Oliver sank into her with a groan, giving her no time to adjust before he began cantering his hips in a ruthless pace. Laurel’s mouth fell open and her eyes disappeared behind her eyelids as he fucked her.

Staring into her open mouth, Oliver dug the fingers that had previously brought her to orgasm into the wet orifice. He was rewarded with her biting his fingers, her body knocked back against the wall as he pushed into her. She continued biting his fingers, like a teething puppy, but he didn’t remove them.

Every muscle in his body was drawn taut as he surged up into her, she gave a scream around his fingers, head thumping back against the wall as she went limp. Drool dripped from the corner of her open mouth as he continued his relentless thrusts.

Oliver had assumed he had seemingly fucked her into submission, shouting in surprise as her nails raked across the side of his face, taking some skin with it. He winced, withdrawing the fingers occupying her mouth to rub at the scratches on his face. Despite it all, he didn’t stop fucking her, his balls slapped against her slick flesh with each glide of his body against hers.

She clawed at his back, scratches criss crossing each other in a bloody lattice as Oliver felt her tight, hot sex squeezing over his cock. It was good, she was so good...and he hated her for it.

His body felt like a livewire as his orgasm struck him, each nerve ending felt raw and electrified as heat pulsed straight through his cock and into her waiting womb. They gasped against each other, bloody and sweating. Her legs trembled as Oliver slowly pulled out of her, a hot gush of his cum spilling out with the lack of his member.

Her hands pushed at his chest, shoving him backwards on unsteady feet as he struggled to come down from his orgasm. She pounced on him, pushing him to the ground with a  _ thump  _ that made the whole apartment shake. Her hands cupped his cheeks and Oliver tried to blink the spots from his vision. He shook his head a few times before his sight cleared up.

She kissed him hungry and hot, her mouth moving down from his lips to his jaw, her teeth bracing his Adam’s apple biting down and sucking on the flesh.

Oliver gave a moan, tangling a hand in her hair to pull her back, blonde strands like threads of sunlight wrapped around his knuckles as they stared at each other with equal loathing and desire.

Their bodies surged together once more, clamoring to cause both pain and pleasure. Oliver wrestled her to the ground, her cheek pressed to the wooden floorboards beneath them. Her arms were twisted back in his grasp as the head of his cock poked at her puffy pink sex.

“No,” Laurel slurred in a hoarse voice, and Oliver found himself pausing… did she want to stop? “My ass.” She uttered brokenly, “fuck my ass.”

Staring down he determined it was a pretty ideal position, with her back arched forward and her arms twisted back and her pretty rear presented to him. His cock was still wet with her liquid arousal and some of his cum that was dribbling out of her used hole would provide a little lubrication, it would still be tremendously uncomfortable if not painful...but, he figured that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

Digging a couple of fingers into her pussy her hips twitched as he withdrew them, dripping with their mingled fluids. Stroking his cock with the makeshift lubricant, his poked the blunt tip of his member at the puckered entrance just above her sex. Shifting his hips forward, he pushed the tip of his cock into her, though her body resisted. The ring of muscle was stubborn gripping him so tightly it was hard to focus. He sank in slowly inch by inch, earning choked whines from Laurel.

“Faster.” She demanded hoarsely, so Oliver gave her what she wanted. Thrusting down to the root of his cock, he used his grip on her arms for leverage as he pulled out only to slam back in. 

Oliver grunted like some starved animal as he pounded into the tight entrance, panting out ragged breaths as he chased another orgasm. It was a different sensation to fucking her pussy, but nonetheless just as enjoyable as she squeezed around him.

Eventually Oliver released her arms in favor of gripping her hips, he held her with bruising force as he continued pumping his cock into her. One of her hands clawed at the decaying wooden floor, no doubt because she couldn’t reach Oliver. The other hand was a blur between her thighs, hungry fingers filling her unoccupied sex and sight alone was nearly his undoing.

Laurel bucked on the ground, writhing in that delirious mix of pleasure and pain that Oliver had learned boiled down to raw endorphins. Sweat, skin, and so very much sensation.

His head fell back as his orgasm drew closer, slamming into her, muscles squeezing down around his cock. His nails dug into her skin as his thrusts grew harder and more inconsistent. Oliver was gasping for air as Laurel met each of his thrusts with one of her own.

He came with a shout, emptying himself into her for a second time, his hot spend painting her insides.

“Laurel.” Oliver panted raggedly, swatting her hands away to finish her off himself with his ruthless fingers in her pussy and his cock buried in her ass. Laurel came undone with a weak scream, her whole body spasming against the ground where little bits of glass dug into her skin. Pulling out far gentler than he had entered, Oliver watched as both holes fluttered with each breath she took, both used holes dripping with his cum.

Oliver gathered her up off the floor and into his arms, it was a terrible habit, but she looked so vulnerable…

He brushed away the miniscule bits of glass from her skin, little dots of crimson welling to the surface as he did so. They were both smeared with blood, and it was only now with the haze of lust thinning that Oliver felt a sweeping weight of regret sink in him like a block of lead. He didn’t regret them being together, he couldn’t ever regret that. He did regret what he had done though, as he studied the bruises and spots of blood dappling her skin. His thumb traced a long thin cut that twisted across her shoulder blade and he frowned, how he had managed that one?

Oliver was so lost in thought that he just narrowly dodged an angry punch thrown in his direction. Laurel thrashed in his arms, her fists meeting his chest in a swell of anger that he hadn’t seen coming.

“Get off of me!” She roared, pushing until Oliver finally relented and scooted back across the floor just out of her reach. He didn’t miss the tears that had gathered in her eyes and a part of Oliver was horrified at the thought that he might be the reason those tears existed in the first place.

“What?” He asked rather exasperated, “What now?”

“I don’t need you to fucking coddle me, okay?” Laurel said in a hiss, raking a hand through her tangled mess of blonde hair.

“I-” Oliver began only to fall silent at her sharp look.

“Everyone keeps telling me that I’m not  _ her _ , your dead bird,” Oliver couldn’t help but wince at her words, “I’ll let you in a little secret, you’re not  _ him _ . You’re not my Ollie and you never will be…”

The words hung heavy in the air and Oliver tried to think of a way to cope with the pain blossoming in his chest, it felt like an ugly jagged gash splitting across his sternum. Is that what it felt like? Every single time he or Felicity or anyone else threw in her face that she was nothing like their Laurel, is this what she felt? This feeling of utter worthlessness…

Laurel let out a shaky breath as she stared back at him, “You’re not him, so if you want to help me don’t be  _ nice _ to me, don’t be considerate, don’t care...the pain hurts less than that.”

She rose to her feet on trembling legs, and Oliver mimicked the motion, his skin throbbed as he stared at her. Laurel gathered her clothing, and Oliver found himself doing the same.

“Can I at least get you cleaned up? A shower, some food, or something?” Oliver proposed gently as he buttoned up the buttons that still remained on his dress shirt. Laurel let out a sigh, fingers pressed to her temples as she turned to face him in just her satin black bra and skin tight leather pants. It was a mouthwatering look.

“Were you even listening-”

It was Oliver’s turn to cut her off, seizing her by her sculpted bicep, dragging her in close.

“Why are you so goddamned stubborn?” Oliver asked as his grip remained firm on her arm, likely another bruise to add to the collection.

“Me?” Laurel spat back in disbelief. Oliver let out a sigh, his grip loosening, just barely. They’d spent who knows how long tearing each other to pieces, fighting and fucking and hating…

“Don’t fight me, Dinah,” He whispered, “Not on this...please.”

Laurel stared up at him, brow furrowed in an achingly familiar way before she gave a sigh of her own. A defeated sigh.

“Fine, but just this once. Then we can go back to hating each other.”

Standing there barely dressed in that rundown apartment, it finally dawned on Oliver why he’d come to this dangerous rendezvous in the first place...he needed this as much as she did. It was twisted, mimicking the shape of love, but it wasn’t love...it wasn’t enough, but it was something.

**Author's Note:**

> This was super spur of the moment and vastly different from most of the smut I write with these two. I came up with the idea for this early this morning and was able to write it in the same day.
> 
> **Any readers interested in a possible second chapter? Please leave a comment if so.


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